


The Art of Letting Go

by crushondeanlikeafairy



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushondeanlikeafairy/pseuds/crushondeanlikeafairy
Summary: A tragedy makes the team realize just how bad one of their own has been hurting. With all their training, they're a well-oiled, precision team. A question they almost never have to ask is, what happens if they're too late?
Relationships: Buck Spivey & The Team
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings in this one guys. It deals with the concept of suicide. Please, take care of yourself and if this is a touchy subject for you, don't read it.
> 
> I actually started writing this last year and abandoned it. And then I saw the trailer for the next episode and was like 'damn that's what I was writing! I gotta finish it before the episode airs!' So, here you go. I'm evil. I feel evil. XD

“Life is relationships,” someone once told him, “A man's worth can be measured by the impact he has on those around him.” Being a mere sixteen years old and because arguing was what troubled youth thrived on, he had done all he could to refute it. That was too simple. Too easy. How could that be the answer? Eventually, he gave in and came to realize the statement was correct.

The world was built on small actions and events that, when added up, had the power to change the course of someone’s life. Maybe even history itself. Like the first idiot to ride a horse, what could they have been thinking? One person took one action and the world was never the same again.

Every person one meets, they change their life. Life is relationships. The individual's relationship to the others in their life. Friends, coworkers, family, and even strangers on the street.

That impact can be good or bad, a wrong word can throw off someone’s entire day while a kind smile can make it. Does he say ‘thank you’ to that cashier? Does he hold the door for the person behind him? Does he give that homeless man on the street his change?

That realization is what led Street to enter the police academy and what eventually led him to S.W.A.T. and the first real family he had ever had. It was what drove him to pursue always being a positive influence on someone’s life. He was thinking of it now as he sat alone in the hospital waiting room, anxiously tapping his foot on the floor. Waiting for a doctor to come out and, regardless of what the news was, change his life.

_Long Beach, 2003_

_It was well past midnight as Street made his way down the dark sidewalks of the suburbia. His sight blurred and his eyes stung. He reached a hand up to wipe his face, surprised when the back of his hand came away wet. The boy thought he had stopped crying three blocks ago. It was stupid anyway, he thought, he was too old to be crying. Really, he should be used to this by now. But then, his foster father had kicked him out. That was a new one. Some had called his social worker to pick him up, but they’ve never just thrown him out like that. It was probably for the best anyway. It was just another bad situation._

_His throat ached and he was certain there’d be bruises by morning. Bone-deep tiredness sank into him, a weight pressing down on his shoulders and driving him into the ground. Gravity felt too heavy._

_The rest of his life would be like this, he realized. It must be. History repeats itself and the past didn’t lie. Supposedly they pulled kids from bad situations and gave them new ones, better ones. Most were, he wouldn’t lie. He’d much rather be ignored by a foster parent than face his father’s wrath. But there were a select few, too many really, that made him question if he’d ever truly be free of it. A few like his latest home. It was just as well they had kicked him out. He probably would have left on his own anyway after tonight._

_He knew what he had to do. Only one way to escape it all. He just had one goodbye to make first._

The team arrived as they ordinarily did the next morning. Hondo and Deacon were fifteen minutes early as always. Nobody knew how Deac managed it with so many small children at home. The man was clearly a deity. Tan and Chris shuffled in soon after, the latter clutching a mug of coffee to her chest as she worked herself awake. Tan was a magic man and was always wide awake in the mornings. Everything was as it should be, the routine only varying slightly when Luca entered alone.

Hondo was kneeling on the bench, lacing up his boots, when he realized the disruption in their daily routine. He looked up at the latest member to join them, “Where’s the kid?”

Luca shrugged his shoulders, dropping his bag on the floor, “I was hoping he’d be here. He didn’t come home last night.”

“Did you try calling him?” Chris asked, pausing her actions and turning to her teammate.

“Not yet, I just figured he’d hooked up with someone.”

Chris’s face crinkled in irritation as she sighed and went about putting her gear on.

“And he’s officially late,” Tan announced, tapping his watch.

“He’s never late,” Chris said.

“He is today,” Tan shrugged, shutting his locker.

The others followed suit, having finished putting on their gear. The group left the locker room and headed out into the common area.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Luca asked, “Maybe I should try giving him a call.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hondo said, “But he better have a damn good excuse for a ‘no call, no show’.”

“He called me.”

The team stopped in front of the boxing ring as Commander Hicks came up to them. The older man looked troubled, sighing as he put his hands in his pockets.

“Look, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Is Street okay?” Chris asked.

“He’s fine,” Hicks clarified, “But he’s not coming in today.”

“Why’s that?” Deacon asked.

“He called me this morning, said he’s been at the ER all night,” Hicks said, holding up his hand to stop any of them from interrupting. “There’s no easy way for me to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. Buck’s been shot.”

The group erupted, questions spilling from their mouths faster than Hicks could catch them. All demanding details. A history of events. The who, what, when, where, and why. The whole shebang. But Hondo’s voice rang out clear above the turmoil, “Commander, what happened?”

Hicks sighed, “I don’t know exactly, I couldn’t get many details. He’s in a medically induced coma. He was in surgery most of last night and he’s about to go in for another within the next hour. Street’s with him now.”

“Why all the surgeries?” Deacon asked, “Did they find the bullet?”

“It’s complicated and very sensitive. He was shot in the head and they need to be very careful how they move around. They got the bullet, but now they’re just repairing the damage.” The commander paused for a moment, “Look, I know it’s Buck. And I wish I could give you guys the day off to go down there. But we can’t afford to be down a team today and I need to know you can keep your heads on track.”

“We understand, Commander,” Luca said.

“I asked Street to keep me updated. If I get news, you’ll be the first to know. And if you get a break in calls, feel free to go visit. I just need you ready to respond.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Hondo said.

He nodded sadly, moving past the team toward his office at the other end of the hall.

"Alright, everyone,” Hondo spoke after a moment, “I know this is a hit, but we still have to perform. We’re going to go out there and do our job like always. We can go visit Buck afterward.”

They all nodded solemnly, the group breaking and heading to debrief. Just like that, they were all business. If there was anything the S.W.A.T. team was good at, it was compartmentalizing.

_Long Beach 2003_

_The sun was just beginning to cross the sky by the time he reached his destination. He hadn’t been walking all night. He’d stopped at a twenty-four-hour mart for a couple of hours, snagging some snacks with the change in his pocket and eating them as he sat on the curb outside._

_Now, he was trudging up the stone walkway in front of a small, white house. He wasn’t quite sure what time it was, he was only hoping he wasn’t too late. He was just on time, it seemed, as the front door opened and the man he was here to see stepping out onto the porch. Street halted in his path, stopping dead center between the door and the sidewalk. Buck looked up from a packet of papers he had in his hand, the door half-shut behind him._

_“Jimmy?”_

_“Hi,” Street waved awkwardly, scuffing his feet across the concrete, suddenly finding it impossible to make eye contact._

_The boy waited as Buck took in his appearance, no doubt disheveled and unkempt. He’d walked a long way to get here and if he looked half as bad as he felt then he knew there would be no avoiding a ‘talk’ with his mentor._

_Buck hesitated a moment, looking toward his car quickly. He had been on his way to work. Finally, he gestured for Street to move toward him. “Come on, come inside.”_

_He stepped back, opening the door fully again to allow the boy to pass through. Street did as he was asked, entering the house and dropping his backpack on the floor just inside the hall. He found himself in the living room, standing stiffly in the corner, wringing his hands together._

_“Sit down, I have to let my boss know I’m gonna be late,” Buck explained on his way toward the landline. Once he was finished with his call, he came back into the living room and sat down on the couch across from the chair Street had chosen. “You going to tell me why you’re here?”_

_Street shrugged, looking down at his shoelaces._

_“Does it have something to do with the handprint on your neck?”_

_Street’s hand shot up to his throat, covering the marks there. So, he thought, it had bruised then. After a moment, he let his hand drop back down to his lap and looked up at his friend._

_“My foster parents kicked me out,” he explained._

_“Why?” Buck asked calmly._

_“Does it matter?”_

_Buck sighed, rising from his seat, “I’ll call your social worker.”_

_“No. No more social workers,” Street said, “I’m done.”_

_Buck stopped, turning around to regard the kid, “And what is your plan instead?”_

_“I…”_

_He thought for a minute. He couldn’t tell Buck what he was actually planning on doing. It had made so much sense just a few hours ago, but the walk had given him time to calm down and now that he thought about it, he wasn’t entirely sure ending everything was the best option. But at the same time, he couldn’t go on like this. Bouncing around from home to home, he’d had enough. It was only a matter of time before he ended up with another family like this latest one. The mere thought tore him up inside._

_Buck would talk him out of it if he knew. And Street would listen. But he had to do this. No one would miss him. His mother, maybe, but he only got to see her for half an hour, twice a month. She could easily find something else to fill that time. He didn’t have many friends, they’d move on. This was the right decision._

_“I’m going to run away,” he fibbed._

_“You’re going to run away?”_

_He nodded silently, forcing a smile._

_“Alright then,” Buck responded, resuming his seat on the couch, “What’s your plan?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“If you’re going to run away I assume you’ve planned this out. You’re a smart kid. What kind of job are you going to get? It’ll be tough, given you’re only sixteen. And then there’s the matter of affordable housing, it’s kind of hard to find that around here. But you’ll figure it out.”_

_“Well, I haven’t got that far yet,” he explained, “I’m still, uh… working out the details. I just came here to say goodbye.”_

_“Goodbye? Where are you going that I can’t come and visit?”_

_“No-nowhere,” Street stammered, “I just… wanted to let you know that I’m uh, I’m leaving. And I wanted to apologize.”_

_If Buck wasn’t concerned before, which honestly Street wasn’t sure given how matter-of-factly he’d been dealing with the situation, he definitely was now. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, his brow drawing down in consternation._

_“For what?”_

_“You told me to just keep my head down and my nose clean. It was so simple. But I couldn’t even do that… I failed.”_

_“It isn’t your fault you got placed in a bad home. You don’t need to apologize to me.”_

_Street ducked his head to hide the tears he felt brimming in his eyes, clenching his fists together in his lap. Barely audible, he mumbled, “It is my fault.”_

_“Kid… what are you planning on doing?”_

_A sob escaped from his chest and, before he knew it, Buck was there kneeling beside him, a firm, warm hand on his shoulder._

_“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered._

It was nearing five o’clock by the time Buck was out of his second surgery. The doctors had done all they could to repair the damage and they said that now it was a waiting game. Normally brain surgeries were done with the patient conscious, but they hadn’t had that option. They wouldn’t know how bad things were until he woke up. If he woke up. Leads came from his chest, connecting to one of those dreadful heart monitors. The steady beeping was a good sign, he knew, but still, it drove him crazy as he sat at Buck’s bedside. It was an odd feeling, hating something so passionately and yet hanging on it’s every sound.

The last rays of fading orange light broke through the blinds, casting bars across the room. Fitting, he thought, as he was in purgatory presently. Sitting and waiting were never his strong suits. Not long ago, there had been a cotton candy sky. He hated that too. The sky didn’t have a right to be that beautiful on a day like today.

His eyes slowly fell shut as his head dropped suddenly, jerking back up just as quickly as the drop woke him. Refusing to let sleep win, he stood and paced back and forth across the room, walking on one of the lines of light cast on the floor. He hadn’t slept a wink the entire night, hanging on the edge of his seat for any word on Buck’s condition. He was nearing thirty-six hours of wakefulness and his circadian rhythm was slowly betraying him.

If someone had asked Street sixteen years ago where he thought his life was heading, he would have told them he was on a fast track to nowhere. He had been a miserable kid, letting life drag him along behind it rather than walk side by side. He’d been prepared to end everything then. The weight of the world driving him into the ground. Fortunately, he’d made the trek to say goodbye to Buck, not realizing at the time the cry for help that it really was. To this day, he's not sure if he would have gone through with it. But Buck didn't wait around for him to find out.

Street wanted nothing more than to be able to do the same for his friend. To run out ahead of the problem and solve it for him before it was too late. But he wasn't given that option. He hadn’t heard from Buck in days and had started to worry. But he’d already been too late, arriving to find Buck lifeless on the kitchen floor, blood soaking the tile around him. The gun beside him, still warm.

It was all a blur what happened after that as he pulled his phone from his pocket, frantically calling for an ambulance. At the time he’d thought it fruitless, just acting on instinct, but when he’d returned to his friend’s side he realized there was still a pulse. Buck was still alive, by some miracle. Street had yanked off his jacket and pressed it to the wound on Buck’s head, trying to stave off the bleeding.

He remembered disbelief. That what this looked like couldn’t be the truth. Buck could never give up like that. But then he’d found the letter on the kitchen counter. A goodbye. An apology. Without thinking, he’d shoved the letter into his pocket. That’s where the letter was now as he paced the room.

"I know you weren’t planning on just giving up! After everything, _this_ is really how you were gonna go? You’re stronger than this!”

He stopped as the line he’d been walking on reached the wall and disappeared, looking up from his feet to his friend. He took in the other man’s pale form, swallowing nervously. Street crossed the room, resuming his place in the bedside chair. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the grey, plastic railing on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” he whispered, “You can’t just leave me here. You're the closest thing I ever had to a father. I need you.”

As expected, there was no response. He let his head drop, his forehead resting between his elbows on the rail.

“Officer Street,” a soft voice called. He jumped slightly, spinning around to look at the nurse who’d been caring for Buck cringing in the doorway, “Sorry. Some friends are here to see Mr. Spivey. They told me to ask for you.”

He wiped his eyes quickly, rising from his seat. “Thank you, Rita. I’m coming.” He found his team huddled close to each other in the hallway just outside the ICU. There were some sensitive cases in that wing of the hospital, so they tried to avoid crowding and asked that each patient have no more than two visitors in the ward at a time.

“Street!” Tan exclaimed, remembering to keep his voice low and alerting the others to their teammates' presence. Those that had not been facing in his direction turned to greet him.

“How is he?” Deacon demanded.

Street grimaced, “There’s nothing more they can do. They said we just have to wait and see if he wakes up.”

“What happened?” Tan asked.

Street crossed his arms over his chest, “He, uh… he tried to kill himself. I went to his house to check on him and he was on the floor.”

The team fell into a sullen silence. Wondering how they’d all missed it. How any of them had let it get this far. Finally, Hondo broke it.

“How are you holding up?”

Street shook his head, dropping his gaze down to his boots. “If I had gotten there just a minute sooner…”

“Don’t,” Hondo ordered, “Don’t do that yourself. He wouldn’t be alive right now if you hadn’t shown up when you did. And this is Buck. He’s strong and he’ll fight.”

Street looked up at Hondo, defeat written across his face. “Why would he? This is what he wanted.”

“Have you been up all night?” Chris asked.

“Well, there’s been a lot going on, so yea. But I’ve had like a dozen of those coffees from the vending machine. They’re pretty good.”

“Dude, they’re awful,” Luca said.

Street chuckled, “Yea, they are.”

“You should head home,” Hondo suggested, “Get something to eat. Get some shut-eye.”

The mention of food made him realize he hadn’t eaten since his lunch yesterday and that his stomach was starting to hurt, but he couldn’t leave. Even if the team was here, he couldn’t in good conscience go home when Buck was in this state.

“No. I’m staying. I’m fine.”

“Street-” Deacon started.

“I’m staying,” he repeated firmly.

“Well in that case,” Deacon said, “I’m going down to the cafeteria to get you some real food.”

Street was about to object but his teammate didn’t give him the chance, already heading toward the elevator. They worked out that Hondo and Luca could go in and see Buck first, and that Chris and Tan would go after. The remaining three members of the team gravitated toward a bench against the wall, a plastic fern in a pot sitting beside it. Chris and Tan took the ends, Street in the middle. He sighed as he sat down, leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes.

Tan and Chris exchanged concerned glances across their teammate before Tan addressed the man in question. “You really should get some sleep.”

“I’m not leaving him here alone.”

“You’re not any help to anyone if you’re running yourself ragged,” Chris tried.

Street looked down at her, “If something happens and no one is here. If I’m not here…”

The elevator dinged as the door slid open, Deacon stepping out with a brown paper bag in his hand. He walked to the trio and handed the bag to Street.

“Ham sandwich. Eat it.”

“Yes, sir,” Street answered sarcastically, taking the offered sandwich. He must’ve been hungry because the shitty hospital cafeteria sandwich was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He added sincerely, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Eat it.”

Deacon sat down on the edge of the seat beside Tan, prompting the younger man to scoot further down the bench. They all sat in silence as Street ate his food. Eventually, Hondo and Luca came back and it was Chris and Tan’s turn. The nurse said Deacon could go as well if he’d like, so the three went in together.

“Hey, Hondo,” Street said, crumpling the paper bag once he’d finished the sandwich, “I was gonna take tomorrow off. I cleared it with Hicks if it’s alright with you.”

Hondo considered the other man for a moment. “I don’t mind if you want tomorrow off, but I really think you should go home tonight and get some rest.”

Street shook his head, resolute in his stance, “I can’t leave until he’s out of the woods. I have to stay. The nurse says it’s alright as long as I’m not in the way. I’ll get some sleep here.”

“Alright,” Hondo said, “But don’t let me come back here tomorrow and find out you forgot to eat again.”

Street nodded, “Thank you.”

The others came back and got ready to head to their respective homes.

“Hey,” Luca said, “If you get any news, you call us. Got it?”

“Of course,” Street promised.

“See ya tomorrow, kid,” Hondo said as the group headed back toward the elevator.

Street watched the door shut behind them before he turned back to the ICU. He returned to his post at Buck’s bed once more. He’d probably fall asleep eventually but, for now, he’d keep watch over his friend.

_Long Beach 2003_

_“Kid, look at me,” Buck said kindly but in a tone that made it clear it was an order._

_Street looked up at him, his tears blurring the image of the man kneeling before him. Their eyes met and suddenly he felt his resolve wavering like he knew it would. The concern and the fear he saw in Buck’s eyes was almost enough to replace his despair with guilt. Almost._

_“What are you going to do?”_

_“I…” he gasped, trying to get his emotions under control. Trying to stop his sobs so he could catch his breath. “I don’t want to.”_

_“Then don’t,” Buck said adamantly. So sure like it was that easy._

_“Is this- is this all life is?” he asked, more tears streaming down his cheeks. He angrily brought his hand up to wipe his face with his sleeve. “I thought things were supposed to get better, but it’s just more of the same.”_

_“Life doesn’t get better until you start making it better. And yeah, there are things in it that you can’t control. People that you can’t control. But you’re stronger than they are.”_

_“Am I?” he begged, a tear falling off his chin and landing on his thigh._

_Buck nodded, “These people that keep hurting you, they’re weak. They have their own pain and they can’t bear it so they take it out on other people. But you aren’t like them. When they knock you down, you get back up again.”_

_“I can’t this time,” he breathed, “I’m tired.”_

_“That’s not for you to decide.”_

_“It’s my life!”_

_“Are you breathing right now?”_

_“Wh- yeah.”_

_“That means your heart is still beating and you are not the one who gets to decide when it stops. The day it does, then you can give up. But today, you need to get back up and you need to keep fighting.”_

_“Buck,” he pleaded, “I’m just a screw-up. Every day I somehow make a bigger mistake. I got in a fight at school and my foster father kicked me out. What am I gonna do tomorrow?”_

_“You’re gonna make another mistake. And probably another one the day after that. But that’s life! Do you think I don’t make mistakes? I arrested the wrong guy the other day. And while we were busy figuring that out, the real killer got away. You don’t think I wanted to quit? Of course, I did. But I came into work the next day and we found him and we brought him into justice.”_

_“I’m not like you,” Street said, “You’re a hero. I’m nobody.”_

_Buck sighed, moving from kneeling to sitting in front of Street’s chair. He grabbed tightly to the kid’s hand, looking him dead in the eye. “You’re in a lot of pain right now, I get that. And you feel alone. But if you go through with what you’re planning on doing, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. Because there will come a day when all of this seems like nothing, when you can’t believe you ever let it get the better of you. There will come a day when you’ll finally be comfortable with who you are and you’re gonna miss it.”_

_Street sobbed again, looking down at his lap._

_“You are never alone. You hear me? Never. I know some days you get knocked down and you feel like you can’t get back up, but I will always be here to pull you back on your feet. You’re never going to fight alone. But I cannot help you if you refuse to keep fighting. I would never give up on you, so don’t you ever do that to me.”_

_Street nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He looked up at Buck and whispered, “Okay.”_

_Buck breathed a sigh of relief, getting up onto his knees again and wrapping his arms tightly around the boy. He clung tightly to him like he was afraid to let go. Like if he let Street out of his grasp then he’d disappear._

_“I will never give up on you,” he repeated vehemently, “Never.”_

When Chris arrived before her shift the next morning the hospital was already bustling with activity. The sun hadn’t even fully risen in the sky and already the trauma ward was full. She supposed that was how it went, especially in a city like LA. There was never a long enough break between people hurting themselves, or each other. If there was, she, like all these doctors, would be out of a job. Wouldn’t that be the day?

Entering Buck’s room, she looked around for Street, knowing he can’t have gone far. Sure enough, he was sitting in the chair by her old team leader’s bed, down for the count. Staying awake so long had clearly gotten the better of him and he’d passed out in the chair, his head lolled back against the back of the chair. His mouth hanging open as he snored. Despite her sour mood, the sight managed to get a chuckle out of her.

Because she was Street’s friend, it was her duty to take a picture to send the rest of the team. She’d just snapped the shot when someone stepped up behind her.

“You know he’s gonna kill you when he sees that,” Hondo laughed.

“Just make sure he doesn’t see it,” she shrugged, returning her phone into her pocket once she was done with it. She turned around to face her boss, “I see we both had the same idea.”

“Looks like,” Hondo agreed, looping his thumbs around his belt as he regarded Buck in the hospital bed. “Part of me was hoping that there was some news. That maybe Street had just forgot to call.”

“Me too,” she said, releasing a tired sigh. “I still can’t believe Buck could do something like this. It goes against everything I ever saw in him.”

“I knew Buck’s been struggling since losing S.W.A.T., but I never realized it was this bad. I should have been there for him.”

“Hey,” Chris said, reaching up and resting her hand on Honodo’s shoulder, “This isn’t your fault, boss. I mean we all could have been more involved in Buck’s life after, but he kept freezing us out. He didn’t want our help.”

“I know, Chris,” Hondo huffed, shaking his head minutely, “But it should have never come to this.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”  
As their conversation came to a natural close and they lapsed into silence, Street stirred where he slept. He sat up and reached his arms out to either side to stretch them out. He grimaced as he realized his neck was stiff, tilting it back and forth to either side.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Hondo smiled, “Maybe don’t sleep like that next time and you’ll wake up with your neck in one piece.”

Street looked over at his teammates, momentarily startled as he realized he wasn’t alone. He faked a laugh as he stood up, twisting his torso till his back cracked.

“I hadn’t planned on sleeping when I sat down. And I didn’t exactly have anywhere else to sleep.”

“Your bed would have worked if you’d gone home like I told you to.”

“Makes for a pretty picture though,” Chris said, taking out her phone and waving it at him.

“You did not!”

“I did. I already sent it to the group chat,” she said, holding her arms up in a ‘well, what’re you gonna do’ kind of way.

Street reached out and shoved her playfully while Hondo reached into his pocket for his phone. Chris knew he had seen her text when he started chuckling to himself. It felt wrong to laugh with Buck only a few feet away in a coma. But after the ordeal that yesterday was, it felt good to be happy just for a moment.

Hondo put his phone back in his pocket. “I’m gonna get some of those vending machine coffees, then Chris, you and I gotta get goin’.”

“Yeah, boss,” she said as he headed out the door. She turned back to Street, noticing that his attention had drifted to the unconscious man in the hospital bed. “No changes?”

“Nope,” he said, letting his arms swing awkwardly at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Then he brought them up and crossed them over his chest as he turned to her. “I stayed up all night just waiting for something and…”

“Then go home,” she said, “Take a shower, grab a change of clothes, make some _real_ food.”

“I can’t,” he responded, a finality to his tone that said he wouldn’t be talked out of it. But Chris was nothing if not a trier.

“Why not?”

Street looked back over his shoulder at Buck, “He was there for me when I really needed him. I was already too late to save him the other night, I’m not leaving him now.”

“Street, you did save him. Like Hondo said, if you hadn’t been there he’d be dead right now.”

“It’s not gonna mean anything if he dies anyway,” Street said coldly, turning his head back round to look at her. “He saved my life, Chris. When I was in that kind of pain, he saw it. And when he needed me to do the same for him, where was I?”

“What?” she asked, thrown off guard by that admission. Which, judging by his grimace, was not one he’d intended to make.

He glanced swiftly at the doorway to make sure nobody was there to hear, before ducking his head closer and whispering, “When I was sixteen I was gonna do the same thing he did. I walked fifteen miles to his house to say goodbye. Without me even telling him what was wrong, he _knew_. And he talked me out of it. I would not be standing here right now if it wasn’t for him.”

Chris regarded his face sadly before dropping her gaze to the linoleum beneath their feet. “I’m so sorry. I understand why you’d feel like you need to repay him for that. But you don’t owe him anything.”

“Chris-”

“Hang on. Just listen,” she said, lifting her eyes back up to lock with his. “I always hear you say that. About your mom. About Nate. And now Buck. I know it can be hard for you to believe, but people care about you. They stand up for you and protect you because you matter to them. Any member of this team would do the same in a heartbeat and never expect anything in return. Buck was there for you because he cares about you, and you should be there for him now because you care about him. Not because you think you owe it to him.”

He didn’t answer, breaking their gaze as he scuffed his foot on the floor.

“We _all_ should have done better by Buck. I know I could have. When he was first kicked off the team I tried to reach out a few times. He kept pushing me away and I let him. Eventually, I just stopped trying. It would be really easy to blame myself for where we are right now. Or, I could wait for him to wake up like I know he’s going to and promise to do better in the future.”

Hondo re-entered the room, holding three cups of coffee together in his hands. He bent down to set them on the small table by the door. He stood back up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “She’s right. When he wakes up, and I know he will, we need to come together as a team and make sure nothing like this ever happens again. No matter how hard he works to push us away, we just gotta make sure we push back harder.”

Street looked reluctant, but he nodded in agreement anyway. He was looking like he was about ready to say something, but he stopped when a rustling noise came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder quickly, as Chris and Hondo leaned to see past him. Buck was groaning, his fingers twitching against the mattress. He was waking up.

The trio was at his side in an instant, standing in a line beside his bed. Street leaned forward and grabbed the railing.

“Buck?”

Everything stilled for a moment and they began to fear it was a false alarm. But then his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times as he adjusted to the light, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, his gaze landed on the people standing beside him.

“Street?” he asked, working down the line, “Hondo? Chris? What… What are you guys doing here? Where am I?”

“You got hurt real bad, Buck,” Hondo explained, “But Street got you down to the hospital and the doctors took good care of you.”

“Hurt? I…” Buck murmured, a concentrated look on his face as he searched his memory for the event. When it came back to him, his eyes widened momentarily before a calm look of understanding passed over his face. “I shot myself.”

“Yeah, you did,” Chris said sadly.

“Why’d you save me, Street?”

Street was at a loss for words, glancing briefly at Hondo like he could tell him what to do. Turning back to Buck, he exclaimed, “Because you’re my friend! I couldn’t just let you die!”

“That was my choice, not yours.”

“I seem to remember someone telling me it’s not for us to decide,” Street answered firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Buck got it, his eyebrows raised in understanding. He turned his head so he could look up at the ceiling.

“You told me you would never give up on me so long as I didn’t give up on you,” Street continued, “I kept my word. So what the hell is this?”

Buck squeezed his eyes shut, his hands closing into fists at his side. “It’s amazing how one thing happens after another. You make one mistake and then the hits just keep coming. Suddenly, you can’t figure out how to get back on your feet.”

“So you ask for help,” Hondo said, “Like you told all of us to do every time we were hurting with something. Whether you are actively a member or not, you are still a part of this team. And you taught all of us that nobody gets left behind, no exception. You sure as hell ain’t gonna be the one that proves the rule.”

“I’m so used to being the boss of you clowns,” Buck chuckled, but it fell flat. “The boss can’t ask for help. The boss has to be strong. Set an example.”

“That’s b.s., man,” Hondo said, “You gotta be the example. And that starts by owning that you can’t do everything on your own.”

“We never needed a leader that’s impossible to connect to,” Chris said, “We needed a leader that loves people. That can connect because he understands. A leader that’s human. That’s what made you such a good team leader. And yeah, that thing with the Harris kid was a huge mistake, but that doesn’t negate all the good you did. You made all of us who we are today and that’s not nothing.”

Buck nodded, a tear sneaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that I’m not perfect and, I’m not gonna lie, I still want to… But I think I owe at least a little fight to all of you, and I want to-t- I want-t t-”

“Buck?” Chris called, concerned as his voice began to slur. He was still trying to speak but the words weren’t coming out. She knew something was wrong, so she made a move for the door to call the doctor. But before she could even turn around, his entire body became stiff, like someone had just zapped him with a taser.

The relatively steady beep from the monitor turned into a high-pitched wail as the line fell flat. And before she, or anyone, even had time to react, to run for the door and find the doctor, two nurses were already rushing into the room with a crash cart. Buck’s doctor followed a few seconds after and they started trying to restart his heart.

Hondo and Chris stepped back to get out of the way. Chris had to reach forward and grab onto Street, drag him back with them. She held onto his arm tightly, forgetting momentarily her stance on physical comfort. Usually insisting she didn’t need it. But that rule was waived as she stood in shock, her fingers wrapped firmly around Street’s bicep. If it hurt, he didn’t react. Just reached his other hand up to grab onto hers. Hondo reached out and wrapped his arm around Chris’ shoulder, pulling her closer to his side.

They stood huddled together as they watched, transfixed, as the medical staff tried to save Buck. The doctor charged the defibrillator.

“Clear!” he shouted, the nurses stepping back. Once, twice, nothing. They tried CPR, nothing.

The doctor sighed, wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm. He stepped back from the hospital bed and checked his watch. Chris found herself silently mouthing ‘no’ over and over again.

“I’m calling it.”

“No,” she heard Street say beside her, jerking like he wanted to move toward the bed to help. But there was nothing he could do. He was powerless. They all were.

“Time of death: 5:24 a.m.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I did it! In the nick of time! I finished before the episode aired. And my writing friend said my abandoned drafts would never get finished. Pshh shame on her. It took me 18 months but it's done!

A stroke. After everything, that’s what had done it. A blood clot had formed in his brain, blocking blood flow. After suffering so much damage already, it was the final blow. The stress had triggered a heart attack. It had been too late before the crash cart had reached his bedside.

If he’d been younger. If there’d been less preexisting damage. If, if, if. That’s all the doctors kept saying and Hondo was sick of it. If he heard one more ‘if’ out of their mouths he was sure he was going to punch something. So he left. He’d feel bad about ditching Chris and Street at the hospital later. Right now, he was full of a potent rage that he couldn’t get a handle on and the last thing anyone needed was for him to lash out. At the nearest lamp, at the doctors, or god forbid at his teammates.

He found himself at his mom’s house. He wasn’t sure if she was home, he hadn’t called first. Hondo hadn’t realized where he was going when he’d started the car, he’d just sort of ended up here.

He took the key he had out of his pocket and opened the door. She wasn’t in the living room, or anywhere he could immediately see.

“Momma?” he called, moving further inside.

She came out of the hallway, looking confused. “What’re you doing here, baby? Aren’t you late for work?”

He looked down at his watch, having completely forgotten the time. 5:58 a.m. Only twenty-four minutes since…

“Yeah, I’m about to be,” he mumbled, letting his wrist drop back down and smack into his leg.

His mother was good at reading him, better than anybody, but he knew it wouldn’t have been difficult for anyone to see he was a mess right now. The confusion dropped off her face and got overtaken by worry. She crossed the living room until she stood right in front of him. She reached her hands up and pressed them to either side of his face, her thumb wiping away a tear that had been rolling down his cheek.

“What’s the matter, baby? Is it your friend?”

“He’s gone,” he whispered, grabbing her shoulders desperately.

“Come here.” Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. He reached around her shoulder and held her close, clinging for dear life. She held his head against her shoulder, one of her hands cradling the back of his head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so so sorry.”

After sitting with his mom for a little while, he hauled himself back to his feet and headed into work. He was late but he still had every intention of seeing the mission through. Calls weren’t going to stop coming in just because he was having a bad day and he intended to be there when one came. Besides, he could use the distraction so long as he could keep a level head. He’d been able to get his immediate emotions out and that allowed him to be there for his team.

They were going to need a leader, especially now, and he was going to give them exactly that.

When he entered the locker room, he wasn’t surprised to find Luca, Tan, and Deac there. They’d heard the news it seemed, each of them sitting silently on the benches. They’d already changed into their uniforms but hadn’t made it out of the locker room yet. Hondo was secretly glad for it. The drive over had been spent mulling over exactly how he was supposed to tell everyone that  _ Buck _ was gone. It was a problem he hadn’t been able to solve, but it seemed he wouldn’t have to.

Hondo stood just inside the doorway by his locker for a minute, thinking of what to say. A rousing speech didn’t seem to quite fit, but it was all he knew how to say. ‘Get your head in the game. We got work to do.’ It all felt so hollow.

Deac finally looked up at him, looking raw. He wasn’t anymore, but he’d been crying not too long ago. “What’s the play, Hondo?”

Tan and Luca turned their heads towards, lost and looking for direction.

“I got no idea what we’re supposed to do now,” Hondo admitted, “So, I’m gonna stick with what I know. The job. I intend to stay and work. But if any of you feel like you need to go home, then go.”

“No,” Luca said quietly, yanking the edges of his jacket sleeves over his fingers, “Buck loved this city. The… the best way to honor him is to protect it.”

Tan sniffed, reaching up quickly to wipe his eyes. He coughed to clear his throat before he spoke. “Where are Street and Chris?”

“I don’t know. I left ‘em at the hospital.”

“We’re here, boss,” Chris called from the open doorway on the opposite side of the room. She entered the room with Street right behind her and headed toward Hondo. The latter went straight to his locker and started rummaging through his backpack.

“You good to work?”

“Sitting at home isn’t gonna do any good.”

Hondo smiled tightly, lifting his head to up to call across the row of lockers, “Street?”

He didn’t receive a verbal response, just a stiff nod before his teammate disappeared from view behind his locker door.

Chris leaned in close to whisper, “He hasn’t said a word since…”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Hondo promised, resting a hand on her shoulder in gripping it tightly. He looked up to address the rest of the team. “We have tomorrow off. So let’s just get through today and then we can all do whatever we need to tomorrow.”

Once everyone was ready they left the locker room. There were no calls at the moment, so the group mutually decided some target practice would do them well. As they walked through the precinct, the aura was stifling. Everyone had heard the news by now and the room was silent. No idle chit chat from any of the other officers and nobody was in the ring sparring. 50 squad was in the situation room debriefing and everyone else was going about there business, but the pep was gone. It was business and nothing else.

On their way to the range, Hicks stepped in front of Hondo and the team, stopping them in their path.

“What are you all doing here?”

“Working, sir,” Hondo curtly.

“None of you have to be here right now. I don’t expect any of you to be up to the job today.”

“You can’t be short an entire squad.”

Hicks sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Maybe not. But I also really don’t need to have to worry about whether or not a team in the field will be able to focus.”

“I discussed it with everyone. I told everyone they could leave if they wanted. We all chose to be here. We’re good.”

“Hondo-”

“With all due respect, sir, Buck was not an active member of this team. Which means you cannot require us to take bereavement leave.”

“Fine,” Hicks grumbled, “But I can require you all to see Doctor Wendy. I want each of you in her office by the end of the day. I don’t care when just make it happen.”

Hondo was about to broach another argument when Hicks held up his hand.

“That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Hicks said. He stepped out of the way, heading back to his office. His boss facade fell and he took on the countenance of a defeated man.

Hondo watched him leave. He felt kind of bad for being so curt, but his temper was running short today. Emotions were frayed for him and everyone else in this building. He suspected once the initial shock wore off, there were going to be a lot of petty bickering matches going around today.

They were able to get in a good few rounds of target practice. Pulling that trigger and shredding the target helped release some of that pent up rage he was holding on to. Catharsis, Wendy would probably call it. Whatever it was called, it felt damn good.

In fact, everyone was being more aggressive with those targets than usual.  _ Good, _ he thought, _ get it out here so it doesn’t happen on the field. _ He noticed Street’s aim was a little off. He’d let it slide for today.

When a call finally came in, he almost whooped for joy. Finally, something worthwhile to do. Get out there and help somebody instead of sitting here on his hands feeling useless. He hadn’t been able to save Buck, but these people he could save.

By the end of the day, they’d stopped a hostage situation and save eleven lives. As he lay in bed that night, he hoped that those eleven would make up for a fraction of the mistakes he’d made with Buck.

He didn’t get to sleep long. At 4:30 a.m. his phone rang, the screen displaying Luca’s name in the dark room. He dug his face further into his pillow, snatching the phone off his nightstand and pressing it to his ear.

“You don’t sleep in on your day off?” he said by way of greeting.

“No,” Luca answered swiftly, “Look, I’m worried. Street didn’t come home last night.”

Hondo sat up, “What?”

“He went out on his bike. I wasn’t too worried. I know he was doing that a lot after all that stuff with his brother. But he usually was back by the time I woke up.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“No, actually I didn’t think of that. Yes, I called him! Several times. No answer.”

Hondo got out of bed and started digging around for the first pair of pants he could find.

“Hondo, he just lost his brother,” Luca said, “And now this… What if-”

“Wherever your mind is about to go, stop it,” Hondo ordered, scooping his keys out of the bowl by the front door, “I’ll call the others. We’ll find him.”

Fortunately, they were able to narrow the area down to Long Beach and two hours later, Hondo found him sitting on the edge of a pier. His legs were dangling over the side. The lower bar of the railing was level with his chest, and he’d crossed his arms on it to rest his chin there. This early in the morning, there was nobody else around. Just the two of them and the sun that was just beginning to make its trek across the sky.

“You know you got the entire team out looking for you before dawn?” Hondo asked as he sat down beside him, mirroring his position.

Street didn’t answer him right away, just kept watching the waves crash into each other. Finally, he spoke. “I used to come here with Buck a lot when I was a kid. Every Sunday. We’d get ice cream from that stand right over there and we’d sit and watch the sunset. He’d just talk with me. Ask me how I was fitting in at every new home I was placed in. How I was doing in school. If I was making friends. Things nobody else could be bothered to ask me.”

“Buck was a good man,” Hondo said, tilting his chin on his forearms to face Street.

“Yeah, he was,” Street mumbled. He sighed and sat up, his arms dropping down to his sides. “In high school, I decided I was too cool for him. I didn’t want my friends to see me hanging around with a cop. I still saw him around but… I wouldn’t talk to him like I used to. I was so cocky and arrogant. But now… I would give anything to sit here with him just one more time.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that. You were a teenager. I’m sure he understood.”

Street shook his head, his mouth thinning into a flat line. “The last time I was here with him, he told me something that’s stuck with me. He said, ‘Life is all about relationships.’ He told me that a man’s worth can be measured by the impact he has on those around him.”

“I never heard that one.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it. About how many lives Buck changed. I mean, he saved me. I know you feel the same way.”

Hondo nodded, “I don’t know where I’d be right now if not for him.”

“On the surface, he did everything right. He saved more lives than any of us could ever know. But when he added it all up… it was nothing.”

Hondo sighed, looking up and watching as the clouds changed shades of pink. The sun rising higher to light the pier. He basked in its warmth, offsetting the cool sea breeze.

“People have a hard time focusing on the positive things sometimes,” he said, “The bad things we’ve done are easier to live in. Buck’s life was worth something. He was a hero. But he made a mistake and to a man like Buck… hurting someone like that is unforgivable. He couldn’t let it go.”

“I just wish he’d told us how bad it was. Or that I’d seen it.”

“Me too,” Hondo said quietly. “But we can’t change it now. We just have to keep moving. And learn to forgive ourselves when we make mistakes, or else this life is going to be a damn painful place to be.”

Street chuckled darkly, “You mean there’s a way for it to not be painful? Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

Hondo huffed out a small laugh, “Okay, maybe not so much. But we gotta believe that the good times can outnumber the bad.”

Hondo stood up, offering a hand down to Street. His teammate glanced one last time at the ocean before reaching up and taking Hondo’s hand. Once they were both back on their feet, they made their way down the pier.

“I texted everyone to let ‘em know I found you,” Hondo explained, reading through the group chat on his phone. “Tan says you gotta buy him coffee.”

Street laughed, “That’s fair. I know a great cafe a few blocks away. We can meet there.”

“Hold up,” Hondo said, placing a hand in front of Street to stop him, “I don’t want what happened with Buck to ever happen again. I’m gonna have this talk with the others when I see them. But I want you to promise me that if you ever start feeling the way he did, that you call me. I don’t care what time it is.”

“I’ll try to have my existential crises at a reasonable hour,” Street joked, followed by a genuine smile as he clapped Hondo on the shoulder, “But, I promise. And you’ll call me?”

Hondo smiled in return, nodding, “I will.”

Forgiving himself for his mistakes was good, but learning from them was better. Hondo vowed he’d never lose another person he cared about like that again. Not if he had a say in it. Together with the rest of the team, they’d pay attention. Keep a better eye out. They’d have each other’s backs, just like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it. I know it was kinda sad. It was really hard to write cause I felt hella guilty XD  
> But this is also an important topic, and I really hope I did it justice.


End file.
